Glasses
by GlassAngel
Summary: The evolution of attitudes about Jim Kirk's glasses, from hostility to acceptance to appreciation. K/S at the end.


**Yeah, I did a glasses!fic. Whatever. It was fun. XD**

**Disclaimer: Star Trek and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn do not belong to me...wish I owned a glasses!Jim, though. ;)**

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Age Nine

Bryan Craig, Jim thought darkly, had to be about the tallest fifth-grader ever. Possibly also the meanest, but Jim couldn't swear to that after running into Alana Pavesi last week.

For his part, he was a little small for nine years old, so if Brian was in a bad mood then Jim was in trouble.

"Where were you yesterday, Jimmy? Teacher made me present my project 'cause you weren't in school."

Yeah, Bryan was in a bad mood.

Jim kept his eyes fixed on the electronic book reader in his lap, currently opened to the _Huckleberry Finn_ file, and tried to ignore the older boy as best he could. "I had a doctor's appointment."

"Yeah? What for?" Bryan's feet shuffled closer in the blurry edges of Jim's nonexistent peripheral vision. In his cross-legged position against the wall, Bryan would seem to be looming over him if he looked up.

"I had to get glasses," Jim mumbled.

"I saw you had those earlier," Brian replied, sounding gleeful. "Didn't really get to see 'em up close, though. Can I look?"

Knowing what would happen, Jim looked up and met Bryan's eyes with a challenging glare. "You can't touch them. I need them to read, I don't need them broken."

Bryan guffawed. "I was you, I'd just stop reading! You got big blue bug-eyes now, Kirk!"

Jim flushed despite himself. He knew the lenses were thick for a kid, but his mom had even let him get thin frames, so the glasses actually looked pretty cool. At least, he thought so. "Okay, I need glasses to read now. So what? At least I can read," he snapped back.

Bryan's face twisted into something that was supposed to be a scary expression. It might've been, except Jim lived with his Uncle Frank. "They shouldn't have let you skip grades, since you need special stuff like glasses to keep up," Bryan finally spat. He grabbed the book off Jim's lap and threw it on the ground before stomping off.

ooooo

At home, Jim settled the glasses firmly on his nose and pried off the back panel of the book reader. It hadn't worked at school after Bryan dropped it, but Jim wasn't going to give up on his favorite present from last Christmas until he fiddled around with the wires a bit.

The inside of the back panel was covered in shiny metal, and once Jim noticed it he picked it up and squinted at his reflection. The plastic lenses _did_ magnify his eyes a little, he guessed, and their bright color exaggerated the enlarged effect. Other than that, he didn't see what was wrong with the thin metal frames.

If Bryan had made fun of the glasses, other people would, too. Jim's eyes only started to hurt after he read for a long time, though, or if he read a lot of small print, so he could probably do without them for the most part.

With that in mind, he left his glasses at home when he left for school the next day.

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**Age Twenty-Three**

McCoy was exhausted after pulling the night shift at the hospital, and he figured he'd be justified in killing his roommate if Jim had brought a girl back to their dorm again. Even if he had, McCoy fully planned on collapsing onto his bed when he got back, the hell with any other occupants. He had a class at ten, and he needed some sleep beforehand.

Being on medical track sucked sometimes.

The dorm was blissfully quiet when McCoy stepped inside. Crossing to the wall control panel, he set the lights to one hundred percent, just to give the room a once-over before he crashed.

As soon as the light snapped on, he saw Jim jolt awake off the desk and blink tiredly at him. Jim mumbled something unintelligible that McCoy translated as, "Hey, Bones. Morning already?"

"Yup. Do we have a test I don't know about?" McCoy couldn't remember hearing about any in classes that week.

Jim stared uncomprehendingly for a second, then looked back at the textbook he'd been sleeping on. "Uh, no. I forgot to do the reading for the advanced emergency tactics class."

Finally, McCoy realized Jim looked a little different. He blamed the delay on the fact that he'd been awake for over twenty-two hours. "Glasses, huh? Never saw you wear any before."

"Yeah, I don't wear them much." Jim removed the thick black frames and folded them away in their case, then stood. "I'll get the lights, Bones. Get some sleep."

McCoy moved towards the bed, feeling oddly disconnected from his surroundings, and kicked his shoes off. He didn't care where they landed. "You know they have surgery for that," he offered, releasing a yawn into his pillow.

"I know. I'm allergic to all the drugs they use to fix it, though."

McCoy snorted as the lights dimmed to darkness. "Shoulda known. Whatever. See ya, kid."

"Night, Bones."

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**Age Twenty-Eight**

Spock finished his analysis of the spores from Aulus X after only five hours of work. Considering he had originally anticipated their analysis to take much longer, he was quite satisfied with his work and allowed himself to retire to his quarters for meditation.

He halted in front of Jim's door, unsure whether he should enter or not. If Jim was awake, he was likely working on reports, which Spock could help with; if he was asleep, Spock could join him—he practically lived in Jim's quarters, anyway.

The decision was obvious, so Spock keyed in the entry code and stepped inside. The door slid shut behind him, and from somewhere inside Jim called, "Is that you, Spock?"

His reply of "Affirmative, Jim" earned a slight chuckle. When he approached the computer terminal, Jim was bent double, stowing PADDs and data sheets in various bags for later organization.

"Have you finished with the transmissions from Starfleet Command?" Spock asked. It looked as though he wouldn't be able to assist with the paperwork.

Jim straightened and rolled his eyes. "_Finally_. I swear they saved that up for a week and sent it all at once, but it's done. I wrote up the report on Aulus, too. Want some tea?"

"I would appreciate it," Spock responded automatically, his attention completely distracted by the sight of his lover's face. "Jim, is that corrective eyewear?"

"What? I—_shit_, sorry, I forgot I was wearing these—"

Spock's hands on his prevented Jim from ripping off the glasses. He took his time inspecting Jim's face closely, taking the new addition into account even as Jim flushed and tried not to squirm under the intense scrutiny. "They are most aesthetically pleasing," he decided, removing his hands.

Jim's jaw and hands dropped in shock. "I look like a geek in them!" he declared, flailing a bit. "Especially these thick ones. Best I could afford on a cadet's budget when I got them."

"I disagree," Spock said calmly. "While they create a different visual balance of your features, they emphasize your eyes in a pleasing manner."

Jim suddenly grinned and seized him in a hug. "Really? You're the first person that's liked them," he said, voice muffled in Spock's shirt.

One of Spock's arms went around Jim's waist, while his other hand settled at the base of Jim's neck. "Even if I did not, you are not my t'hy'la based on your physical appearance."

He felt Jim's answering grin through their bond. "That's Vulcan for 'I'd love you anyway,' isn't it?"

"Yes."

The glasses stayed on.


End file.
